Sanctum
by Tessa4
Summary: Following Tessas tragic death, Duncan MacLeod flees to Paris and the sanctity of the barge, where he gives free rein to his soul-wrenching pain, and his precious memories. This scene follows the episode "The Darkness".


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Sanctum

Following Tessas' tragic death, Duncan MacLeod flees to Paris and the sanctity of the barge, where he gives free rein to his soul-wrenching pain, and his precious memories. This scene follows the episode **The Darkness**.

Fog swirled around his booted feet, as the tall, dark solitary, man walked slowly through the darkness, along the well travelled sidewalk that followed the banks of the ancient river.

Paris. The city of light, the city of lovers, was strangely quiet and peaceful now. Almost as if it was paying its' respects to his incomprehensible pain. A pain that had sent him spiralling into an endless night of suffering from which he felt there was no escape. 

Four hundred years of survival, of facing every kind of formidable adversary, had not prepared him for this. He knew loss. He had long ago lost track of the number of times he had faced his own immortality in the face of the death of a friend or a loved one. But always, he had done what he had to do. With steely determination, borne of long experience, he had moved on, knowing that his life would go on, and on. He never lost that fire, the instinct to survive that was always as much a part of who he was as the Katana that even now, he could feel resting against his well honed body. That cold, ever present extension of himself that defined him as Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and stood between him, and the grim spectre of death in the form of yet another equally determined immortal. 

The game. The bloody game.

It held no fascination for him. It gave him no satisfaction to kill another immortal. It was just something that was necessary to his survival. He never went looking for a quickening. Not like some head-hunting immortals whose only purpose in life was a relentless search for the next conquest. He was no Damon Case, no Xavier St. Cloud. They sought him out, and his time spent training and disciplining himself both physically and spiritually ensured that his body and soul were well prepared for them. Oh, he had gone looking for justice, for revenge, more times than he could recall. The quickenings were just an inevitable bonus, a pyrotechnic reminder that his lifeline was longer than most. 

Suddenly, it loomed in front of him through the silver fog. He stopped and raised his tired, dark eyes to take in this familiar hulking mass of dark metal.

The Nobile. The barge. He was home. 

With hesitant steps he advanced on it, the familiar feel of the cold railing in his hand. He walked to the door and stood quietly outside it for a moment. Taking a deep, ragged breath as though to give himself the courage to open the door and once inside, face the quiet, empty space that would never know her presence again. Where he would, perhaps, never again know joy.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Through the still, silent darkness he could see the ghostly shapes of the sparse pieces of furniture that he and Tessa had covered with white sheets to fend off the dust. He switched on the light and the room was flooded with a warm, glow from the lamp which hung over the table. 

He removed his long coat, shivering against the chill that permeated the room and set about building a fire. It actually felt comforting to be doing something so mundane. A few short minutes and he had a fire glowing in the fireplace, radiating a pleasant warmth into the cold room. On a sidetable was a bottle of vintage Cognac that Tessa had given him. She had teased that it wasn't as old as he was and he smiled warmly at the memory, as he took the bottle and a glass to the sofa, where he collapsed, exhausted in front of the fire. He splashed the amber liquid into the glass, and held it up to the flickering firelight, watching the flames distorted through the golden glass, then tossed it back, feeling the warmth trail down his throat and into his belly. He put his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn't recall ever being so damned tired and he couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face.

His Tessa.

God. She was so beautiful. He'd known lots of women in his life. He had always attracted beautiful women. But Tessa. She was extraordinarily so. Large, brilliant blue eyes framed by arched brows, translucent skin, a soft generous mouth and that mane of honey-blonde hair. She nearly matched him in height, her body graceful, lithe and long limbed. Just the mental picture of her caused his body to respond, and he willed it to stop, knowing he would never again know the ecstasy of the intimacy they shared. 

But there was so much more to Tessa Noel than just that heart-stopping face and body. Beneath it was a spirit and a soul the like of which he had never encountered in all his many centuries. He reached back in memory to the day fate brought their paths together on a balmy spring day in Paris in 1980, as he fled a murderous immortal assassin named Kuyler. He had jumped into the Bateau Mouche and annoyed the lovely tour guide. He could sense that she was mildly amused by this intruding stranger and he knew, though she tried not to let on, more than just a little taken by his roguish charm. He couldn't get this beautiful young woman out of his head, so he returned later that day and waited for her to finish work. As she was walking away, he caught up to her and he refused to accept no for an answer as he persuaded her to have dinner with him. She relented, if only to get rid of him once and for all. They spent the evening, drinking wine in a little café in the looming shadow of the Eiffel Tower. They talked and laughed into the night, until the yawning café owner had turned them out into the Parisian streets and they walked and talked until the sky above Paris turned rosy with the first tentative rays of the sun. Duncan and Tessa fell in love that night, and since then, they had been inseparable, one heart and one mind. Almost thirteen years later, when he and Kuyler met once more, he thought he probably should have thanked him before taking his head. After all, he was instrumental in his chance meeting with an angel. 

She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. He decided to reveal his deepest secret to her, that of his immortality, which he hadn't shared with many in his long life. She was terrified and shocked at the graphic demonstration. A gunshot through his heart might have been a little more than necessary perhaps, but it made the point succinctly and there was no doubt that he was telling her the truth. When he later explained, she calmly listened, her wide blue eyes looking directly into his, and when she expressed her concern for how sad it must be for him to constantly live with the loss of those he loved, he knew in that moment that Tessa was the most special, most selfless of women, and his love for her was indefinable.

His only regret was that she hadn't known the joy of holding her own child in her arms. It was the one thing he couldn't give her. A child that was a part of both of them. He saw that pain in those beautiful eyes when she saw a couple with a new baby, or interacted with a small child in the park. She had natural maternal instincts, he had been certain of that. He had told her often that if she wanted a man who could give her children, he would retreat from her life and not look back. She had been horrified at the suggestion, and adamantly told him "never", that the life and the love they shared was more than enough for her. He had believed her, because Tessa always spoke from her heart. 

Twelve happy years together, and then the relative peace was broken by the arrival of Richie. Young Richie Ryan. He burst into their home and their peaceful existence one late summer night a year ago. Duncan sensed his impending immortality from the first time they met. He hadn't told Tessa, but he had planned to someday. He wished he hadn't put it off, but then again, maybe it was best that she never knew. Ironically, the night her fragile life ended, Richie Ryans' new life began.

As he held Tessa in his arms that night, her life ebbing away as he stared into her lifeless blue eyes, he witnessed the gasps that heralded Richies' first revival and his immortality. Duncan was his teacher now, but he had to leave him for a brief time. He had to deal with his own indescribable grief. He had always fiercely protected Tessa. His words to his clansman, Connor, had stated it clearly. It was his job to protect Tessa. From the ruthless immortals who had used her to make him vulnerable, and from that bastard renegade Watcher, Pallin Wolf, that very night she died. . From anyone who might threaten her life and safety in any way. He had always been able to save her. But not this time. How was he to know that the real threat was outside that night, in the form of a pathetic young punk, with a drug ravaged mind. For all his strength, and the skills that were the result of centuries of fighting for his life against the most dangerous of opponents, he couldn't save Tessa from her fate. He wanted to scream and rage at the skies with the frustration of it! He was only a short distance away when a random act of senseless violence took her precious life, the same act that pushed Richie over the threshold and into eternal life. 

Duncan poured another shot of cognac, savouring the way the strong golden liquor warmed his blood. 

What good was he to Richie here, lost and grief stricken? What would Tessa have wanted him to do? Richie was the closest thing to a child of her own that Tessa would ever know and in that short time, she had patiently dealt with the teenager as well as any parent. Tessa would have wanted him to give Richie every advantage of his vast experience. Train him to fight to survive as best he could, but above all, teach him to respect and revere all life and hold it dear, as Duncan did. He would do that. It was an ancient ritual for an immortal. To guide and teach another younger immortal in the ways of survival against their own kind who would seek their precious quickening. He remembered his own early years as a newly born immortal. He wasn't as fortunate as many, banished by his father, wandering lost and alone for years, unsure of what he was, yet knowing something remarkable had occurred in that crofters shed. Then came the day that Connor MacLeod found him in a bloody bog in Scotland and in his unique way, revealed the secrets of immortality to a shocked and speechless young warrior. 

So long ago. So many long years. So many lovers and friends ago. So many battles. And so many battles yet to come. 

Feeling suddenly in need of fresh air, Duncan took the cognac and went out onto the deck of the barge. The fog had cleared and a few persistent stars fought their way through the lights of Paris. He sat down and looked up into the blackness above him. For some reason, unknown to him, he suddenly thought of Amanda. That frustratingly unpredictable, beautiful immortal woman who had once been his lover and best friend. In recent years she had been less and less a part of his life. Their lives had intersected not long ago, and she had, as usual, an agenda of her own. One that had very nearly cost him his head. He couldn't help but smile at the memory. Amanda was nothing if not a survivor, and she always put her beautiful head first. And beautiful she was, no doubt about that. She made it clear that she wanted him, that they could lead an idyllic life together, letting the centuries roll by as they lived in hedonistic splendour in some far off tropical paradise. But even she had seen that he and Tessa were a bond that she could never breach and she left him, saying that she wished them well. No doubt, she would be back. She always came back, but there were museums to rob and art galleries to vandalize, and so she would go on with her life. He loved her in his way. Always had. Always would. Did she love him? She claimed to, when it suited her! But theirs' was not mortal love and it never would be. It wasn't enough for him, immortal love. There was something about a mortal woman that drew him like a moth to a flame. Was it the protector in him? Was it their fragility, the fact that each sunset brought them one day closer to the inevitable end of their lives, and therefore, made them that much more sincere in their love? In their hearts? He didn't know for sure. It was just the way he felt. 

He looked out across the Seine, that cold ribbon of slate grey water that had been the witness to so much history. A few short months ago, he, Tessa and Richie had solemnly cast the ashes of his beloved Darius into it's depths, where they would rest for eternity. Darius. Once a fierce Roman general, his quickening at the gates of Paris had changed him forever, into a man of god, whose only motivation in life was that of peace and the search for truth and light. He had taught Duncan more than perhaps anyone had ever taught him in his long life. If he could be even a small fraction of the man Darius was, then he would know serenity. He felt the rage coming now. The rage that was always below the surface when he recalled Darius' death at the hands of that monster, James Horton, the so called Watcher. He called immortals abominations of nature that had no right to live, that should be exterminated from the world. He was still confused and unsure of this secret Society of men and women who supposedly watched, but didn't interfere as they recorded the history of immortals down through the ages. Horton had sure as hell interfered hadn't he! Dawson tried to convince him that Horton was a renegade, using the Watchers for his own twisted agenda, and that he had no idea that this brother-in-law of his was the madman he had proven to be. Well, Duncan had seen to it that he wouldn't harm another immortal, innocent or otherwise. He didn't enjoy killing, but this was one time when he felt a distinct pleasure at the feel of his blade making contact with soft flesh and seeing the life blood run out, just before the cold hand of death once again briefly closed around his own heart. If anyone deserved to know his Katana intimately, it was James Horton! 

The sky above Paris began to give way to the soft light of the burgeoning new day. A day he would face without Tessa. A day he would dread, like all the other days without her. He knew it would get easier. It always did. But there would forever be a bleak, empty void in a place in his heart and soul that would be hers' alone. She would want him to pick up his life and go on, and he had Richie to educate. He had often told Tessa that she was strong and that if anything had happened to him, she would have the strength to continue on with her life and make it full and meaningful. Tessa told him he only thought that because it suited him. Maybe it did suit him, but he believed it, nonetheless. 

Duncan walked back to the door of the barge, He turned and looked out once more over the water, listening to the sound of birds welcoming the new day, taking in the familiar landmarks that defined this old city. Notre Dame watching over the river like she had for centuries, the Eiffel Tower, a metal sentinel on the horizon. Centuries come and go, and like himself, these things remained. They would remain after he was gone.

He took a long, last look at the familiar world around him. A world that he had shared with Tessa. A world that would forever hold a myriad of golden memories of a woman he loved.

He hoped that somehow, somewhere, Tessa was at peace, and smiling down at him. 

THE END


End file.
